


If You Want to Know the Time...

by Dimity Blue (Arnie)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 17:41:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arnie/pseuds/Dimity%20Blue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Health and Safety rules; it's too dangerous." Greg had never been more aware of the ridiculousness of that statement. Here he was, a grown man, a copper, charged with protecting the general public from the criminal element, and he wasn't allowed to get up on a chair and change the time on his office clock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	If You Want to Know the Time...

**Author's Note:**

> Contains one line from the series.
> 
> Unison is the union for public sector employees.
> 
> This is another story based on an anecdote from "Perverting the Course of Justice", written by a long-suffering copper (an Inspector, no less) who has to deal with bureaucracy as well as criminals. Poor guy.
> 
> Additional disclaimer: I have nothing against any member of Unison or any union rep. I'm sure the majority of them are perfectly lovely, sensible people who hate bureaucratic stupidity as much as the rest of us.

"Your clock's wrong!"

Greg looked up to find Sherlock in his office, glaring at the wall clock. "Yeah, the clocks went forward yesterday." He didn't even bother asking why Sherlock was there; obviously he was bored.

Sherlock gave him one of his patented 'are you stupid' looks. "So change your clock."

"There's been a murder down on the docks." From clocks to docks, and Greg hoped it'd distract Sherlock. "Dimmock's down there right -"

"Why are you changing the subject?"

Oh, God help him - Sherlock's full attention was riveted on him now. "I...thought you'd be more interested in the murder."

"He usually is," John put in, looking remarkably calm for a man who spent far too much time with Sherlock. Greg sometimes wondered if John was mainlining sedatives.

"So, the murder. Dimmock's -"

"Why don't you want to tell me about your clock?"

Sherlock's eyes narrowed as he stared at Greg, and Greg felt the sweat break out on his forehead. "What's there to tell?" Greg asked, fully aware of the hint of desperation in his tone. "It's a clock - it's wrong!" He knew, after this, that Sherlock would be convinced he was as stupid as Anderson.

"So change it!"

Greg dithered, then admitted, "I can't!" There, it was out in the open now.

"Why?" Sherlock was like a dog with a bone. Greg appreciated that quality when he was faced with an apparently unsolvable murder, but not when it involved the stupidity of Health and Safety.

Giving in to the inevitable, Greg mumbled, "We're not allowed to."

"What?"

Even John seemed taken aback by that one. "Why aren't you allowed to?"

"Health and Safety rules; it's too dangerous." Greg had never been more aware of the ridiculousness of that statement. Here he was, a grown man, a copper, charged with protecting the general public from the criminal element, and he wasn't allowed to get up on a chair and change the time on his office clock.

Sherlock blinked at him, apparently silenced, and Greg felt a flicker of pride. It took a lot to silence Sherlock.

John, on the other hand, didn't seem surprised. "Bureaucracy." He nodded, giving Greg a sympathetic look. "So when will someone be out to change the clocks for you?"

"Probably about six weeks before they're due to change again." Greg bit back a grin at the look on Sherlock's face.

"Six weeks?!"

"Yep." Greg sat back in his chair, feeling rather more cheerful about the whole situation. Maybe there was truth in a trouble shared being a trouble halved. "Penny - she's in admin - sent a clock change request form to the right department last week. They sent it back today with a note that it was refused as the clocks hadn't changed yet."

"But they changed yesterday," Sherlock retorted, his eyes narrowed.

"But they hadn't changed when she sent the form in."

"But they'd changed when they sent it back." Sherlock's eyes narrowed even further, as if he was expecting Greg to crack.

"You're trying to use logic, aren't you, Sherlock?" Greg grinned. It was almost worth dealing with the lunacy of Health and Safety to see the baffled look on Sherlock's face.

"Is this a joke?" Sherlock's suspicious gaze turned away from Greg and was aimed at John.

John shook his head and shrugged. "It's bureaucracy, Sherlock. You know what they're like."

That pale gaze turned back to Greg and he shrugged in response. "Not my division."

"Right." To Greg's shock, Sherlock grabbed a chair and shoved it under the clock. "I'll change the clock."

Greg leapt up. "You can't do that!" The Unison rep would have his head.

"Watch me!"

"Sherlock! It's against Health and Safety!" Greg's amusement had well and truly vanished by now. The union didn't have a sense of humour - it was probably against _their_ Health and Safety rules - and he was pretty sure 'act of Sherlock' wouldn't protect him from them going nuts; they barely accepted 'act of God' as an excuse for water damage or lightning strikes.

As Sherlock disappeared out of his office, undoubtedly to find more clocks to alter, Greg followed. "Sherlock! Oh my Lord." Yep, there he was, up on a chair and altering the next clock too.

"What's he -" Donovan was at Greg's side, a stunned look on her face. "He's not changing the clocks, is he?"

"We've got to stop him." Greg cast a look at John but he had his arms folded and a smile on his face. "Fat lot of help you are!"

"You know there's no way to stop him," John said, still looking far too pleased over the situation. "Anyway, it's harmless, isn't it?"

"Harmless?" Greg echoed. John worked in the NHS - he had to know what union reps could be like.

"Well -"

"Here! What do you think you're doin'?!"

Just as Greg had expected, Barrett - the union rep - had appeared from nowhere and was now glaring up at Sherlock, apparently not at all put off by the fact that Sherlock had to be almost a foot taller than he was.

"I'm putting the clock right," Sherlock replied, almost politely for him.

Naturally, Barrett was outraged. "You can't do that - it's against union rules!" His stare landed on Greg, and Greg automatically took a step backwards, not wanting to get involved. "Did you know he's doin' this?"

"I tried to stop him!" Crap. Greg almost face-palmed himself. He'd just admitted to prior knowledge; no wonder he'd never become a criminal.

"So why didn't you ring me?" Barrett demanded. His attention turned back to Sherlock as he, presumably deciding today of all days was the day to be helpful, headed off down the corridor to find another clock. "Where are you goin'? What about this clock?!"

"It's right," Sherlock threw over his shoulder.

"Right? Right? It shouldn't _be_ right!"

Watching them go, Greg retreated into his office and hid behind his desk. Maybe he could pretend to be busy. Maybe he'd get a murder before Barrett got back.

"So what's going to happen now?" John enquired, following Greg instead of Sherlock.

"Barrett will complain, a lot, and then he'll get a stepladder so he can put all the clocks wrong again." Greg knew that for sure as he'd once - and once only - tried to fix the clocks himself. The shitstorm that had raised meant he'd sworn off ever touching a work clock, and he had the heebie-jeebies about changing his own at home.

"But what's the point in putting them wrong again?" John seemed more amused than traumatised and Greg envied him.

"Questions like that are why you and I are a doctor and a copper and not a pair of union reps," Greg retorted. Not that he wanted to be a union rep - the red tape drove him bonkers enough as it was.

A knock at the door made him jump, then he did his best to look calm when he realised it was Donovan. "We've got a case. A dead body's turned up in a burned out garage."

"Thank God for that!" Greg muttered, grabbing his coat and practically running Donovan to the door. "John, do yourself a favour and get out before Barrett realises you're with him." He jerked a thumb in the direction of Barrett's angry voice which seemed to be heading back towards them.

It was. As Donovan went out to get a car for them, Sherlock came around the corner, Barrett still at his heels, and Greg shoved the door back open and tried to make good his escape.

Typically, it was useless, and Sherlock followed him out, pushing John ahead of him and loudly demanding to know what case Greg had and where it was. Fortunately, Barrett seemed to decide his kingdom only extended to the door and there was no sign of him once Sherlock had let the door slam. Either that or Sherlock had knocked him unconscious with the door; Greg wasn't sure he cared.

"The case, Lestrade! What is it?"

"You do realise I'm going to be on his shitlist!" Greg snapped back. God help him if he needed union help any time soon.

"You're already on his shitlist," Sherlock said. "I doubt he'll add you again."

"What?" It would be typical of Barrett to still be holding a grudge over last year's clock row. "How do you know?"

"I saw your name when he added mine to his list. Well, not that I gave him my name."

"What?" Greg realised he was repeating himself. "What name did you give him?" Not Lestrade, surely - though Greg wouldn't put it past him.

"I told him I was Anderson and I work in Forensics. The case, Lestrade!"

"I'm amazed you didn't give him mine," John commented, still looking as though he found the whole thing funny.

"There's no point giving him yours - you don't work here," Sherlock said, dismissively. "Lestrade!"

"Fine, the case." After getting Anderson on Barrett's shitlist, Greg reckoned Sherlock had earned a case.

The end.


End file.
